


Coping (but badly)

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad coping mechanisms, Creepy The Handler (Umbrella Academy), Gen, Hallucinations, Number Five and Lila bonding over trauma, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Self-Harm, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: For the Febuwhump prompt hallucinations.Sometimes, Five sees the Handler.She tells him to kill.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy & Lila Pitts, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Coping (but badly)

It could be hard. Always thinking, finding acceptable ways to do whatever needed to be done. Like now.

The Sparrows were being a pain and blocking their access to dad and his basement, in which there could be a way for them to try and manipulate the timeline so that they existed again, so that they could go back to what their life had been. It had been Five that found it, and now he was supposed to fin a way to deal with them as well, make sure they interfered.

"You could always kill them." a familiar voice that still sent shivers down his spine said from the background. "You know you want to - you know it's the one thing you were ever good at."

The handler was there, on the edge of his vision, mocking him, telling him those things he'd been trying not to think about for so long. Also she was dead, and not really there. Which was not technically new (as much as he loved her, everything that Dolores was to some degree or other, hallucinated), it spooked Five, because she was a manifestation of a side of him that he hated, that scared him.

So he buried his nails into the palms of his hands, until they bled, until it hurt.

Tried to ignore her and her voice.

"So, what do we do, Five?"

Ugh, why were they asking him, he was just an old man with a headache and too many skeletons around him.

"Let me think."

He buried his nails deeper, closed his eyes, tried to banish her.

*

She never stayed far, though.

Even after they got back their timeline (the Sparrows should be thanking them, now they hadn't been raised by an alien maniac) and things were supposed to be good, better, even then, sometimes...

It was quite possibly just his own fear showing up. The fear he had that one day something would tip him over the edge, making him break down and release this monster he'd been, the one he often feared he would never be able to get rid of. (.... he actually tried therapy for a while. It only made the nightmares more vivid. Maybe it was the wrong type of therapy or maybe he was simply beyond help).

And Five was not a fearful guy, he'd lived through too much for practically anything that wasn't a major worldwide cataclysm to even make him feel worried, but... He did scare himself, what he was capable of, what he'd done, the variety of horrifying orders he had carried out without barely thinking. This was a part of him, he knew, and he knew he'd done all of that for a reason, but....

The others were arguing about something stupid, and if he didn't step in Diego and Luther were going to end up actually hurting each other, and honestly he was so very tired.

"If you killed them they would stop bothering you, stop getting into fights." the Handler said, looking at him mischievously, sitting on a table in front of him. "I know you don't want to, but you did a lot of things you didn't want to when you worked with me, didn't you? And wasn't there a little part of you that enjoyed it? That misses it?"

It bothered Five, how loud and clear her voice was in his head, how much sense her words had. The fact that she was in a way... right. He did think those thoughts, sometimes, and it repulsed him and he hated it. He took one of Diego's stray knives, cut his forearm, to try and think something else, focus, see if she went away.

*

He had better moments, and worse moments.

When Lila found him at 2am in the kitchen was the end of a very bad week. His forearm was all mangled up and some of the cuts were infected, he knew. He had his face on his hands, eyes teary, skin pale, hair unusually messy. Sometimes being whole was a challenge he didn’t have the energy for.

Life could, more often than not, be a bit difficult without the distraction of the end of the world. Without a clear purpose. Just enjoy yourself, enjoy life? Five wasn't sure he even remembered what that felt like. Or how to manage that again.

His head hurt, and he honestly hadn't felt properly right in so long....

Someone took his hand, and he nearly jumped.

Lila. Hmm. Better.

If it had been Allison or Klaus or one of the others maybe they would ask him why he hadn't said anything, scolded him for not looking after himself better, told him in a stern voice that he was technically a growing boy and blah blah blah. He didn't need all of that, thank you very much. He needed someone who wouldn't ask questions, someone who wouldn't feel the need to appear concerned.

Like her. She went to the bathroom that was nearest, brought some supplies, asked no questions. But she knew. She'd always been good at reading other people, knowing them, understanding them. And what Five was feeling right now - well, she understood it. Sometimes that little voice in your head that told you to kill was a bit too loud.

Five's arm... Well, it was a mess. But it really wasn't her place to judge, to tell him just how easy it was to meditate, or think positive, or some shit like that. It was so annoying when people did that, only made the want to kill increase.

No, she just cleaned the arm, poured some disinfectant (Five didn't even flinch, but after seeing only snippets of that apocalypse he'd been trapped in the times she'd been let in the switchboard, she was not really surprised. There was hell, and there was that - no wonder he had such high pain tolerance) and then started bandaging it. Slowly, carefully. Gently.

"Do you ever hear her?" Five asked her, so low that it was little more than a whisper. "Telling you to kill"

"Yeah." She'd been there nearly all her life, of course she did. Often.

"How do you manage?"

"I tell her to shut the hell up."

Five nodded. Gosh, he looked so tired, so conflicted, so... hurt. He'd saved them all from certain doom, more than once too, the world should be allowing him to rest. Maybe she could help a bit more.

"I also have a little voodoo doll that I stab sometimes. Helps me sleep better."

Five drew an imperceptible smile.

"You wanna have a go at it?"

"Absolutely."

And what do you know, Five slept a lot better that night as well, after some stabbing.

Quieted the voices for a bit.

Lila smiled at the him as he slept, put a blanket over him.

Sometimes being understood and not judged was the one thing that could bring peace to even the most troubled of souls.

And didn't they know it.

**Author's Note:**

> this is baaaaaaaaaad but I saw the prompt and thought the whole thing?? 
> 
> So I thought, hey, you write it and get it out of your head. 
> 
> Anyways, if you somehow liked, do leave a comment! Many thanks for reading!


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